Near extinction

Once upon a time, there were many. Some towering over local sidewalks. Others nestled in decades-old homes. Others hidden amongst the brick landscape of small downtown locations. Wheaton. Glen Ellyn. Bloomingdale. Lombard. Lisle. There were sightings everywhere. Some were warm, inviting, with an alluring song extending out like a familiar hand. Others were dark, cold, and almost daring you to come near.

But you did. The temptation was always too great to resist. And having made the bold leap into the unknown, you were rewarded with candy for the senses. The incense, almost intoxicating, and a constant reminder that these were new worlds. The images. They almost leaped off the walls and shelves. Where do you turn first? Eye-catching psychedelia. Bold new designs. Glistening shrink wrap. Vinyl as far as the eye could see.

And the sounds. Yes, the sounds. This was a brave new world, wasn't it? Extending well beyond the reaches of commercial radio, we were treated to a musical vision not intended for the masses. Some of what was shared was intense. Loud. Almost ear-splitting. Was this music? How come none of my friends were listening to this? Some experiences were almost cerebral. Who were these new artists reshaping or tossing away the old mold? What I heard was fresh. Not quite so familiar. Smart. Lyrics that were almost poetic. Song structures that seemed to take you on an actual journey, not just a 3-minute break at the highway rest stop. And some experiences were just breathtaking. Music that seemed to spit in the face of tradition. Artists playing time signatures that seemed to zig when you thought they should zag, showing a musical dexterity that would cause the average rock star "wannabe" to cramp up with exhaustion trying to keep up with the speed and precision.

25 years ago, they were out there. You didn't have to look too hard to find these small offerings of musical bliss. I felt secure knowing that I had a place to go to get away from the norm, the mainstream, the conformity. And there was the indescribable, absolute joy that came from those first moments returning home, tearing off the wrapping, revving up the turntable, and settling into a wonderful journey. The music. The artwork. The liner notes. All for me.

And now they are almost all gone. First, it was almost in slow motion. One disappeared. Then another. And then they were herded away in the middle of the night. Lonely shops. Empty bins. Unable to survive the changes brought about by the music "business" (as well as a mostly conforming public), they threw up their collective arms in frustration and surrendered. The music seemed to die. And what's worse. Nobody seemed to care.

Sure, some of the more densely populated downtown districts have managed to hang on to these beacons of hope (as blogger pal hawkins occasionally details in his DC platform). A few hung on through the tough times. And a few others might have quietly entered the scene. But out in Suburbia, it continues to be a sad time.

But there is cause for some hope. A survivor. Here in Geneva? It's true. Having established a loyal following in nearby Batavia, Kiss the Sky has decided to rise to the challenge in full, tightening its belt, padding its armor, and planting itself right in the heart of the downtown river community. I say "bah!" to the gourmet pet treat stores and expensive collectibles. "Humbug" to the trendy clothing boutiques and pricey restaurants. And I can say WELCOME at the top of my lungs to our new neighbor.

The familiar lights are back. The incense. The selection. The music knowledge from owners and employees who actually care. Vinyl is still secondary to the CD format here. But the back room is changing more each week. At least I have a choice. It's not just Hannah Montana and Celine. Britney or The Jonas Brothers (just TYPING those names almost caused me to weep). Nope. Real artists. Real music.

Monday was a vacation day. My first order of business had to be Kiss the Sky. And there was a familiar giddy sensation at the end of the experience as I sorted through my new purchases in the car. Cluster. Circle. Dead Kennedys. Comets on Fire. Wire. Six Organs of Admittance. More.

Much like 25 years ago. Please don't ever leave me again. Please.